Title: Teach Me to LoveAuthor: bleedforyou1Pairing: Harry/DracoRating: NC-17Beta: vanessawolfie & wendypopsWord count: 10, 903 [posted in 5 parts]Warnings: epilogue-compliant (kinda)Summary: Draco Malfoy never thought he'd have to share a school with Harry Potter again. Nor did he think it was possible for the git to drive Draco even more insane.

Note: This is the fic that I've been working on for months, on and off. I literally tore off a chunk of my heart and put it into this story and although the ending left me a bit on odd's end, I hope everyone will enjoy it, because it did mean a lot to me to write it/finish it. Also, a super big thanks to both Vanessa and Wendy for being so awesome.

The day had had a horrid start and was simply getting worse by the minute. Of course, there were no easy days for the Headmaster of Hogwarts, but this was simply ridiculous.

In the morning, during breakfast, a fight broke out between two students that resulted in a food fight between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Right after, Peeves had strung dead snakes all over the ceilings in the dungeons—of course, creating havoc among the 1st year Slytherin students who had been in their rooms at the time.

After all of that had been cleared up, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—a small witch who Draco really shouldn't have hired in the first place—had screamed that she was quitting because she really couldn't handle the pressure. So now, before noon, he was already heading back to his office to try and send some owls to previous teachers, begging them to come and substitute until he could find a replacement.

Then, just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, Draco entered his office and nearly walked straight back out. He sighed and closed the door behind him quietly, staring at the back of a too-familiar head. The messy hair was really in a rather appalling state today and Draco grimaced slightly.

The head turned and Draco took in the wide smile and bright green eyes, now behind a new-looking pair of black, rectangular glasses that seemed to suit the man much better than that other round broken pair he usually had on. Not that it matters, Draco thought as he walked up to his desk resolutely.

"Mr Potter, I was unaware that we had an appointment this morning," Draco said politely as he sat down in his chair across from where Potter was slouching unprofessionally. The git. "Are the children all right? They seemed fine at breakfast this morning."

"Nope, no appointment." Potter grinned easily at him. "And it's not about the kids either—although, I really hope James hasn't started any more fires or turned any more kids into frogs."

"Not that I know of." Draco's lips quirked slightly at the thought of the last time Potter had been called in because of his eldest son's antics. "He's been relatively quiet these last two weeks since his seventh year began. I do believe he's finally trying to decide what to do with his life after he graduates and that leaves less time for, ah, other activities, like setting half the school on fire."

"I thought for sure he was just going to go work for his uncle," Harry said, rolling his eyes, but still smiling like the proud father he always was. "He does love the Weasley joke shop."

"I'm not sure, but I did tell him that he had all the options in the world," Draco said. He knew how intelligent the young man was, and often he would come into Draco's office and ask for career advice, which Draco was always willing to give to his students. "He's a smart one—as are Albus and Lily, of course."

Potter sat up and stared at him with a pensive look on his face that made him seem as if he were finally as old as he really was. Draco was about to ask why he was staring, but then he spoke.

Draco rolled his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek. "Potter, I don't have all day to sit around and speak with you. I do run a school here, you know. What, exactly, is the reason for your visit?"

Now the smile was gone and Draco felt childishly pleased in its absence.

"Well, er," Potter started, scratching the back of his head as if he were really just seventeen again. "You might have heard this already, but I retired from the Auror force a few weeks ago."

"Yes, and...?"

"Erm, I..." The man paused again and Draco was becoming rapidly irritated.

"Spit it out, Potter," Draco snapped. Merlin, he rarely ever lost his patience anymore—trust Potter to ruin his gentle streak with his impertinence.

"I'm bored!" Potter said suddenly. "I thought it would be relaxing or whatever, so I retired on my 42nd birthday, but now I just sit around and do nothing but read, play with Skipper and watch porn and—"

"What, for Merlin's sake, does this have to do with me?" Draco asked, slightly horrified by Potter's rant. "And what is a Skipper?"

"Not what, but who. Skipper is our two year old crup." Harry sighed. "I was just thinking, I mean, I heard that Professor Mayborn was thinking about quitting—Albus sent me a letter yesterday—and I just thought that maybe—"

"No!" Draco blurted out, very un-Malfoy-like. He had put two and two together to figure out what Potter was thinking. "There is no way."

"Just think about it!"

"No, just no, absolutely not," Draco said, his voice resolute. "I would never allow someone like you to teach here!"

"Someone like me?" Potter raised an eyebrow and stared at him with those impossibly green eyes of his. "What exactly is wrong with me?"

"You're not only impertinent and disorganized, but you have a notable history of danger surrounding you! Plus, I don't want children to just continually hear stories about your glory days instead of actually learning something."

"Okay, first off, I don't go around telling stories of my so-called glory days because they weren't glorified for me. They were painful and the wounds of those who were killed still hurt me," Potter spat out, his charming voice now full of anger. "I barely ever talk about the war, even when my kids beg me to tell them about it. Also, isn't my notable history of danger the right reason to hire me? Who else better to teach kids about dangerous dark arts then someone like me or you, who have first-hand experience?"

Draco and Potter sat for a moment and stared at each other.

"And I'm not impertinent. And only slightly disorganized," the man finished, the grin coming back.

Rolling his eyes, Draco had to remind himself to count to ten and breathe slowly. "I hate you, Potter. How am I going to stand being around you all the time?"

"I'll keep out of your way, I promise," he said cheekily, moving to stand up. "Look, just think about it. Who knows if Mayborn will actually quit? It's just an option."

Sighing and standing up as well, he could feel the Portraits all staring down at him as he faced his fate.

"Mayborn has already quit, Potter. This morning. I suppose, considering you're probably the only one who'll want to work here who is at least somewhat qualified and is already ready... I suppose I'll have to hire you."

With that, Draco headed out of his office, wanting to get away from the irritating man as fast as possible.

"And don't you dare ask me for a raise!" He practically snarled at the man as he left.

Draco clenched his teeth in preparation for the speech he was about to make. It was simply ridiculous that in only October, he was already replacing one of his teachers. He felt like a failure. Standing up, he watched as the whole student body in the Great Hall finished their desserts and looked over at him. He still had some respect, at least.

"Students, I hope your first month in classes has been going well. I know it's getting somewhat hectic with upcoming tests and papers due, but I do hope you remember to enjoy your time here as well. Quidditch is off to an excellent start and our duelling club is doing wonderfully. Congratulations are in order as well, to our Wizard's Chess team, which beat Beauxbatons earlier this week!"

Draco paused and smiled as several students who were on the Chess team blushed while their classmates cheered for them.

"And, now, I'm sure you've all noticed our recent change in seating arrangement at the head table. Professor Mayborn has decided that she would like to take leave, and we have a replacement who is, erm, eager to teach you all the fascinating subject of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Please welcome Professor Potter," Draco couldn't help but sneer, even though he really shouldn't, "to our humble home, and remember that now, as your professor, you must respect him and treat him as you do the rest of your professors...no less, nor greater."

A huge burst of applause went off as Potter—stupid, noble, prat—raised a hand and waved to his adoring fans. Draco noted that Albus, Scorpius and Lily clapped the loudest, while James seemed anxious and kept running a hand through his hair, almost exactly like his father.

"Now, off to bed, students. And remember the rules! I don't want anymore trouble—including late night soirees or nicking snacks from the kitchens. The Elves do tell me what's going on, believe it or not," Draco said, his voice only slightly tinged with warning. Father was right; I really am going soft. But he did love the students, damn it all, even if perhaps they did annoy him sometimes.

There was murmuring among the students as they went back to their dormitories, but Draco tuned it out and headed down the stairs, towards the back door so that he could go back his own rooms and finish some paperwork. He knew he should sleep, he really was exhausted, but he needed to finish that damn letter to the Minister and those last few contracts with the Salem Academy, to prepare for the next Wizard's Chess tournament...

"Malfoy! Malfoy, wait!"

Draco turned on his heel, the paperwork forgotten for a moment. "Professor Potter," Draco snarled. "I am the Headmaster of this school. You will address me as Professor Malfoy or Headmaster Malfoy in front of the staff and students, understood?"

Potter quirked an easy grin and shrugged one shoulder like the idiot he was. "Yeah, okay. Anyway—I was wondering, where am I supposed to teach? The Elves showed me my rooms—which are fantastic, by the way, thank you—but they didn't show me my classroom."

Draco breathed in deep again. "I'm not a tour guide, Professor. Your classroom is on the third floor, where Professor Mayborn was teaching—we don't want to confuse the students by having you acquire a different classroom."

"But, see, I went there, and there are no windows! None, at all! That's so boring. Plus, there's hardly any room in there! Where are we supposed to practice and—"

With that, Draco turned and felt a niggling feeling in his stomach. This whole thing was going to be such a failure—he just knew it.

The next day, Draco looked up from his desk to see Limmy, the House Elf that nearly always attended to Draco, pop in and hand him some piping hot tea.

"Thank you, Limmy. I really need this at the moment," Draco said gratefully, taking the tea from her small hands. "How are you today?"

"Limmy is well, thank you. How is Headmaster today?"

Draco sighed and brushed a single strand of hair back behind his ear. "I'm doing all right, I suppose. Just so much work, you know? Anyhow, are the menus for this week done yet?"

"Yes sir, here they are." She snapped her fingers and a few more papers floated onto Draco's desk, joining the million others that were sitting there already.

"Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day; I'll see you for my nightcap tonight."

"Yes sir." Limmy smiled and popped back out. Draco sighed and started to go back to his paperwork, but he was interrupted again by the small clock above his desk going off—noon. Standing up, Draco put on his robes on top of his collared shirt and made his way out of the office.

He had decided to peek into the new professor's class and considering this would be his third year class, there would be nothing too strenuous going on, hopefully. He noticed that the door was open and was surprised—professors rarely ever let their doors stay open during class.

Soon, he realized the door was open in order to make space. Potter had pushed all of the desks out of the way and was having the students run around, throwing a particular spell at each other. Draco soon realised it was a Freezing Charm, as many of the students suddenly froze in place and their friends came up and practised the counter curse. It was smart, to teach them that way, Draco had to admit.

He looked over to where the professor was helping one of the Slytherin girls, who kept getting the spell wrong and was getting frustrated with herself. Draco watched as Potter spoke softly and smiled at her, and in the next moment, lo and behold, she could do the spell just fine. Draco rolled his eyes, but still approved—the students were learning just fine, and that was the important part.

After watching for a few more moments, Draco saw that Potter had noticed him and was now grinning like an idiot from across the classroom. He put his thumbs up towards Draco and nodded enthusiastically. Feeling his insides bubble at the sight of a 42-year-old man still acting like a teenager, Draco simply lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug and left the room.

Turns out no students had gotten injured and his own son had only compliments for Professor Potter, so Draco decided to go easy on the man. He was teaching, and damn did Draco need a good teacher. He remembered when he had first started teaching—Potions, when McGonnogall was the only person left who would still hire him—and it had been a rocky start. He had hated his students and the students had hated him for the better part of two years.

He had gotten married then, and Astoria gave him Scorpius, the reason for Draco's life and the thing that had caused him to become a gentler man. He had felt such a connection to his baby boy that nothing, not even his soon-after divorce from his wife, could tear them apart. Scorpius lived at his mother's house for most of the year while Draco taught at Hogwarts and stayed with him during holidays. When Scorpius came to Hogwarts and became close friends with the Potter boy, Draco could not help but adore the Potter children as well.

Albus was quiet and solemn, while Lily was excellent at Potions, much like her namesake and James—well, James was a rambunctious but very smart young man, much like his namesake.

"Father, are you all right?" Scorpius asked.

Draco looked up to where his son was sitting across the table from him. On Tuesday nights and Sunday mornings, Draco and Scorpius set time aside from their busy schedules to spend a few hours together, mostly doing paperwork, or homework in Scorpius' case, or simply reading and enjoying their tea.

"I'm fine, son, why do you ask?" Draco looked into those grey eyes so like his own staring at him.

Scorpius was really the son he had always wanted—tall, devastatingly handsome and wickedly smart—he had a sharp sense of ambition, but he was also warm-hearted and open, unlike any other Malfoy before him. Draco felt only pride when he saw him.

"It's just... you seem off. Is it Professor Potter? Does it really bother you that much that he's working here now?"

"No, no," Draco said, shaking his head. "It doesn't bother me. It's complicated—our past is hard to forget, but we both want to forget it. Seeing you and Albus become the best of friends... it just reminds me of how very wrong everything was between me and Potter. He was always suspicious of me and I was always jealous of him—and now that he's back in my vicinity, in the same halls of Hogwarts nonetheless, it seems like we're at a standstill. I just don't know how to act around him anymore."

Draco stopped, unbelieving that he had just said that whole thing aloud. He had been thinking it for a few hours now, but to say it out loud, and to his son, was a completely different story. Scorpius put down his quill and stared at him and Draco felt unnerved at his son's inquisitive gaze.

"You want to be his friend."

"What?" Draco spluttered. "I said no such thing—"

"You don't have to say it. I can tell—you've always wanted it, and now more than ever. Father, it's not that hard. Just ask him to go out for a drink or something!"

"I, by no means, want to be Harry Potter's friend. Nor do I want any sort of relationship other than that of boss and underling."

"He's not your underling." Scorpius laughed. "And I'm sure he'd like friendship as well. Maybe you two could sit next to each other at the Quidditch match this weekend. After all, your sons are playing each other! Although, you'll have to give my regards, considering how horribly his sons will lose."

"Slytherin to the core, aren't you, Scorpius?" Draco rolled his eyes. "James is an excellent Keeper though, and Albus is almost as good as you at finding the snitch; you never know—Gryffindor could beat you this time."

"Takes one to know one." Scorpius smirked, picking up his quill and going back to his homework. And underneath his frustration, Draco still felt that same rush of pride tingle in his nerves. He really was getting too soft these days.

It was slightly foggy on Saturday morning when Draco was walking towards the Quidditch rafters with Professor Longbottom at his side. The bloke had become much more charming as he grew older and Draco was even happy to call him a friend most days. Today, however, was not one of those days.

"I'm just saying... you should give him a break. I know you two have a muddled past, but maybe you'll really like him if you get to know him!"

Neville had been attempting to get Draco to lighten up on Potter all morning. As if Draco would give in so easily.

"First off, I gave him the job, didn't I?" Draco replied, starting to ramble in his irritation. "Despite my better judgement. Secondly, why should I even be more than polite towards him? It's not very professional to just be Best Friends Forever with one of the professors. I am his boss—people may think I'm giving him preferential treatment! Third, I can't quite let go of the fact he's still an annoying, attention-seeking prat that lives to bother me. And lastly, why is everyone always on his side? Why does everyone always pit me against him, causing me to look like the bad guy just because I'm not friends with him?"

The entire time Draco had been talking, there had been a slight smirk on Neville's lips and Draco found it highly out of place on the Herbology Professor's face.

"Because you act like being friends with him would kill you? Look just—relax, you know? You're too tense! You strut about the castle like you're going to murder someone these days." Neville clapped him on the shoulder and Draco stumbled slightly.

"I'm leaving. I'll sit alone at the match." Draco sneered. "Not with you or Potter or any other Potter-worshipping people."

Draco rolled his eyes but watched fondly as Neville walked away. He was a good friend, albeit totally incorrect about the whole be-friends-with-Potter thing. Could anyone besides Draco see the git beyond the fame and charm? Merlin, even his own son liked the man!

At times like this, I really miss old Snape, Draco thought as he sat down underneath the covered Professor's rafters and pulled his cloak tighter around him lamely. At least he would understand why I can't just be friends that prat.

The match was off to a rocky start—the first play was a foul when the beaters of the Gryffindor team got into a fight with the Slytherin chasers. Draco was amused to see Potter wasn't even there. Draco had thought he'd be the first and loudest to come by, sporting gaudy Gryffindor colours and a Weasley scarf or some other horrendous accessory.

"Well 'ello there, Headmaster Malfoy!"

Potter suddenly appeared, as if called on by Draco's thoughts, and sat down next to him. Did he fucking Apparate here or something? Draco thought in annoyance as Potter grinned at him.

"Fine morning for a game, isn't it?"

"Shove off, Potter," Draco said, his voice as cold as ice. Potter, however, completely ignored him, making himself comfortable on the bench.

"Damn, I'm late. Anything exciting happen while I was gone? I really had to go grab a cup of hot chocolate. It used to be tradition for Ron, Hermione and me whenever we weren't playing in the game. Then, I thought, why not grab you a cup as well?"

Draco stared at Potter, then looked down at the steaming cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

"What? Don't tell me that you don't like chocolate just to make me leave because I know that's not true."

Draco clenched his teeth and looked way, holding out his hand for the cup. Only because I believe in not wasting food, Draco thought bitterly.

"I really wish you'd keep your promise to 'stay out of my way'," Draco commented as a few more brutal plays happened in front of them on the pitch.

"You and I both knew I didn't really intend to keep that promise." Potter laughed. "It's much too fun to pester you."

"I really hate you, Potter," Draco muttered. His heart seized for a moment as he watched a bludger miss Scorpius' head by an inch.

"It's hard watching them in danger, isn't it? Even if it is just for fun," Potter cut in. "I remember once when James fell and skinned his knee and I nearly had a heart attack."

"Children are prone to danger. We can't get them out of all painful situations—otherwise they'll never learn."

"Yeah, and I highly doubt our kids would listen even if we did try to stop them."

Potter's laugh was annoyingly dorky and still slightly charming and it made Draco roll his eyes. "Of course, we did even worse when we were teenagers, and it's not like a game of Quidditch has anything on fighting a full-fledged battle against an evil overlord and his minions."

"True," Potter said lightly. "I'm thankful that they won't have to deal with the kind of horrid nightmare of a childhood as we did."

"Why are you sitting here, Potter?" Draco asked, cringing when Albus nearly flew into another teammate.

"Because I have a secret plan to try and brainwash you into becoming friends with me." Potter grinned, shoving his shoulder into Draco's. "And, Score and Albus told me that we'd all be having dinner tonight—thought I may as well come sit with you now."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable. My time is now being occupied by Potters. What has my life become?"

"Wonderful? Amazing? Great to the highest degree?" Potter snickered.

"Shut up and let me enjoy the match, Potter." Draco scowled as the game went on.

They sat in silence—at first uncomfortable for Draco, but then it was all right with all the cheering going on—and watched as their sons played against each other just like they had all those years ago. Draco was so into the game that he had broken the silence first, yelling to Potter about how amazing a play was.

"I know! Merlin, they're so good! Hell of a lot better than we were!"

"I can't believe it—they're good enough to go pro if they wanted to," Draco replied, eagerly watching as the seekers chased after the golden glint.

"I miss it," Potter said lowly, his voice close to Draco's ear. "I miss fighting you for the snitch—it was the best when you and I played—like we were at each other's throats."

"It was rather exhilarating, wasn't it?" Draco started to smile, but caught himself and looked away, back towards the pitch, just as the game ended.

Both Harry and Draco stood up in amazement, watching as Albus made a spectacular play and caught the snitch with outstretched fingers just as Scorpius tumbled into him. They both were knocked off their brooms and suddenly James was barrelling towards them, catching them against his own broom. Draco watched, paralyzed with fear as both Albus and Scorpius held on for dear life.

"Wait." Draco stopped Potter as he began to reach for his wand. The other teammates flew by and helped Albus and Scorpius, flying them to the safety of the ground, where both boys tackled each other, laughing and playing around like the teenage boys they were. The snitch glittered in Albus' hand.

"That was..." Potter swallowed and Draco nodded.

"Brilliant."

Potter looked at him then, cheeks flushed in excitement and a grin stretching widely across his lips and Draco thought he'd never seen something so... free as the light in Potter's green eyes. Damn his charm.

"Father, can you pass the lemonade?" Scorpius asked, a smile playing at his lips as he stared down the table at Draco.

Draco barely contained his annoyance as he flicked his wand, allowing the pitcher of lemonade to slowly drift towards his son. The table in Draco's living quarters now had five high-backed chairs around it, and the table had been altered to become a circle rather than the rectangle it usually was. Amazing how even the school itself would not allow Draco any upper-hand against Potter.

"The chicken is fantastic," Potter commented, looking up and smiling at Draco from across the table.

"It's pretty awesome," James said, wolfing down the food as if he had never eaten in his life.

The dinner had been, well, just a dinner. Draco was shocked to see that there had been no brutal hexes or punches thrown and the night wrapped quite... normally. It was almost as if it were an ordinary circumstance to have dinner with the Potters.

"See? We didn't kill each other," Potter said, smiling as he put on his cloak and turned towards the door. The boys had already left for their respective dormitories, and Potter had hung back to finish his glass of wine.

"Yes, I suppose not," Draco admitted. "Maybe it wasn't that bad."

"Enough to do it again?" Potter asked, raising an eyebrow. "We could always go out for a pint in Hogsmeade or something—like normal people do."

Draco swallowed thickly. He had surely lost his mind. He couldn't actually be thinking of it... could he?

"I... I suppose that would be acceptable. So long as you don't embarrass me."

"Me? Never!" Potter grinned mischievously and Draco had a strange feeling flutter in the pit of his belly. Must be the wine. "Next Saturday then. Goodnight, Headmaster Malfoy."

"Goodnight," Draco said, watching as Potter tipped his head and left.

Draco closed the door behind him and shook his head in wonder. He had definitely lost his mind.

In the following week, Draco found himself to be rapidly losing his hold on reality. He kept having these stupid conversations with Potter and he was disgusted with himself—he actually started to enjoy talking with him.

"Headmaster, may I have a moment?"

It was Tuesday and Draco had just finished his lunch when Potter had cornered him outside the Great Hall.

"What is it now, Professor Potter?" Draco asked, irritated not only by the fact that Potter's hair looked like a humdinger's nest but also that it was almost...appealing in a way. What the fuck was happening?

"The new librarian told me I had to get Headmaster approval if I wanted to take the kids for a trip in the Restricted Section?"

Draco was relieved when Potter only wanted to ask him something professional. "Yes, you do. I have the paperwork in my office if you'd like to come fill it out?"

"Yes," Potter said, nodding and following him up the stairs. "I'd really like to show my seventh years a set of books I found there last week on Dark Arts, but the librarian said I couldn't take the books out of the library, only bring kids in. When did that rule change?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "A few years ago, one of the professors brought out a book on Poisons and a few kids decided it would be funny to take the book from the professor's office. It resulted in quite a few nights in the Hospital Wing. Since then, I decided it was safer for the Professors to monitor the students when in the section."

"Ah, that makes sense—how practical of you." Potter smirked.

Draco turned as they went into the office. "Are you being sarcastic? If so, it's unappreciated."

"No, I'm serious. I really like the way you run the school, Draco. It reminds me of when Dumbledore was here," Potter said, sitting down and holding one of Draco's quills while reading the paperwork Draco handed to him.

Draco stood in shock, staring at Potter for a moment before shooting a glance at the portrait that held Dumbledore. The man was rarely ever in the portrait, considering how many there were in the world that he could visit. Draco was always somewhat afraid of talking to him when he was here, so he usually just didn't.

"Thank you," Draco said, regretting how soft his voice sounded.

"I imagine it must be hard to run this school—especially when one of the students is your child. I really admire you for it," Potter was saying as he continued to write, oblivious to the blush on Draco's face.

"Well, whenever you're done with that, you can leave it on my desk and I'll file it. I should go—I promised to help Hagrid with something after lunch."

"Right, right, you go ahead," Potter nodded. "I think I'm going to wait until Dumbledore comes back—I'd like to speak with him, if that's all right with you?"

Later that night, Draco wanted to cancel dinner plans with Scorpius, but his son was persistent.

"Harry and Draco sitting in a tree—"

"If you finish that sentence, I will smack you, Scorpius Arcturus Malfoy. Don't think for a second that I won't!"

Scorpius smirked and simply shrugged. "I'm just saying—you two are a right fine pair. Talking all the time, having lunch together tomorrow and then drinks on Saturday. You're practically dating already."

Draco gritted his teeth and attempted to remain calm, proving Scorpius wrong. "Not that it's any of your business, but Potter is not my type. At all."

"Yeah right. You don't even have a type, Father. You were married to Mother and you've only had one night stands ever since. Yes, I know, and I'm okay with it. But I really do think you and Harry would be great together. Just saying..."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I do not need my son to play matchmaker for me."

"But you totally do—you need to get out there, Father. You're lonely, I can tell."

"Scorpius, that's enough, we are not having this conversation."

"Why do you always do that?" Scorpius suddenly yelled, standing up. "Why is it that whenever we talk about something personal, you go all cold again and you act like I don't have a right to see you be happy? Look Father, I'm not pretending anymore. I hate seeing you alone because you deserve to be with someone equal to you—like Harry. And Harry likes you too—I can tell. All of us are rooting for the both of you and you're the only one who won't allow yourself the chance."

With that, Scorpius shoved his books into his bag and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

He really did take after Draco—the dramatic exit was always Draco's specialty.

Throughout the rest of the week, Scorpius avoided Draco like the plague. Although he was upset that his son was angry with him, Draco knew he could do little to change it. The fact that he was having drinks with Potter on Saturday was already sending him through the roof, imagine having a... relationship with the man? Inconceivable.

All the same, seeing Potter's cheeky grins across the head table or in the hallways had a way of melting Draco's cold stature. It was becoming a problem, really. Draco had decided that after drinks on Saturday, he would simply give up on the whole 'being friends with Potter' thing. It was clearly becoming too strenuous on Draco's life.

Especially considering that everyone was harboured on it. Every time he talked to Hagrid, Longbottom, his son or anyone else, he was met with constant pushes towards Potter. What was it that was so important about Potter that he just had to be friends with the git? And what was all this chemistry between them that everyone but Draco saw?

They constantly argued about something and they almost never could get through a conversation without annoying each other. Draco could not deny Potter's attractive quality any longer, but the git was always so stubborn about everything that it made him impossible to admire.

"Someone is thinking too hard."

Draco sighed. Of course, even when he was thinking about Potter, the git just had to show up.

"I know it's an alien habit for you, but thinking is good for the brain," Draco responded, looking up from the ground. He quite often liked to walk by the lake when the wind was calm enough. It was still quite cold outside, but Draco liked it that way.

Potter chuckled and fell into step with Draco. "Listen, I was thinking—I heard there was a new restaurant in Hogsmeade and I wanted to try it out. Can we go get dinner instead of drinks? Or, well, we could have drinks before dinner too—"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Potter," Draco interrupted. "It's already going to be weird with the two of us out and about like... like..."

"Like friends?"

"Yes. And, I'm, well, I'm your boss. What if the other Professors said something?"

"Yes, I can see them all being so jealous." Potter was laughing.

"This is not funny!"

"It's kind of funny."

Draco stopped and they both stared at each other for a moment, and something just unraveled in Draco.

"I think it's also kind of funny how atrocious your hair is. And how stupidly you grin. Also, your idiotic way of finding me when all I want to do is get away from you!"

"Really? I was thinking about charming us 'best friends forever' t-shirts... I guess that's a no go for that, then?"

After a moment of staring at Potter in confusion, Draco imagined them both wearing glittery t-shirts like second years often did and with that image in his brain, he burst out laughing.

He couldn't stop himself—and he definitely tried—but soon both he and Potter were chortling hysterically and Draco was nearly doubled over, holding his belly. Merlin, when was the last time he had laughed like that? Surely it had been far too long, because he hadn't felt this light in a while.

After minutes of laughing passed, Potter put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do, Draco. But I do want to have dinner with you. I think it'll be good for us to start being more comfortable around each other. What do you think?"

"I don't know. I don't think I'll ever be completely comfortable around you, Potter." Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But, fine, we'll have dinner. Make reservations for eight. And don't be late."

Draco shook his head and closed his eyes. He asked himself again—what the fuck was happening to him?

On Saturday evening, Draco and Harry were already two glasses into the wine before dinner started. Draco was slightly thankful, because the wine allowed him to loosen up and he realised that maybe, just maybe, being with Potter wasn't all that bad. The bloke was funny, and at least his table manners had improved since Hogwarts. Plus, when he was wearing black trousers and a dark green button-down shirt with a leather jacket... well, Draco had to continually remind himself that shagging was out of the question.

"I think that Al could easily beat the seeker from the Cannons. So could Score for that matter—that bloke shouldn't even be in the league."

Draco nodded, chewing slowly on his shrimp bruschetta—which was quite delicious. The restaurant was quiet for a Saturday night and Draco had a feeling that Harry had talked the owner into giving them a booth in the very back so that they wouldn't be interrupted. Which was just too close to date-like for Draco's taste. What if Potter thought this was a date? It most certainly was not. Was it?

"Why teaching?" Potter asked suddenly. "Out of all the things you could've gone into, why did you choose teaching?"

Draco wiped his mouth and thought about his answer before actually speaking. "Well, for several reasons. One, McGonagall was the only one willing to give me a chance after my role in the war, and I do honestly enjoy Potions. She needed a professor, but the school wasn't as well-off after the war and I was the only one willing to take a small paycheck. Another reason was just... I wanted to come back and make it right. Turn around and show people I wasn't a simpering coward anymore."

"You're not, that's for sure." Harry smiled at him. "And you and Astoria... I heard the divorce was rather nasty?"

"Yes, I'm afraid the Prophet did not leave anything out, did they?" Draco chuckled. "Astoria and I never really loved each other. We were married by our parents to arrange for an heir and she never really hid her indiscretions from me. One night, when we took Scorpius out for a night in Paris, one of her lovers went rather crazy and tried to beat me up, claiming I was forcing her to stay with me. I filed for divorce the next day. She was fine with it, and we're not really that against each other anymore."

"Wow, that's intense. So if you never really loved her... was there someone else? I'm sorry if that's too personal, but I'm curious."

Draco sat there for a moment before he decided, what the hell, and just answered honestly. "There was a man I'd wanted for a while but never did anything about it. I always just let it sit in the back of my mind and then I thought it was too late... never mind that now, it probably doesn't even matter anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because... it just doesn't," Draco replied quickly. What is wrong with me? Why am I saying these things to Potter of all people? "What about you? I read in the Prophet that your divorce was much more amicable than my own."

"Yeah, Ginny and I... well after we had Lily, we both realized that our lives weren't really that in sync anymore. She wanted to go back to playing Quidditch and I was just becoming Head Auror. Plus, I realised that maybe women weren't really my thing anymore. She understood, and we both kind of just... well, went our separate ways."

"Wow. Of course you get lucky—even your divorces are happy."

Harry laughed. "I was just happy that the kids were fine with it. They've all been so easy-going, it makes me feel like they don't even care as long as we're happy."

"That's what Scorpius says," Draco said, recalling their argument earlier in the week. "He's upset with me because he seems to think I won't allow myself to be happy. Oh, wait, I wasn't meant to say that aloud. Stupid wine."

Draco scowled and was foolishly reminded that he always did ramble too much when imbibed with alcohol. Perhaps he should stop after this glass.

"Is it true though? Do you not allow yourself to be happy?"

"I don't even know anymore." Draco sighed. "I just didn't think so much on it. I think I've just got so used to being alone that I can't imagine anything different."

"I think I know exactly how that feels," Harry replied.

They were quiet for a while after that as they finished their meal and Draco decided that maybe one more glass of wine wouldn't be too awful. It was really a rather good vintage after all. It seemed that Potter was in agreement with him as he guzzled down the rest of his own glass.

"I don't want to sound like an idiot or anything—" Potter started.

"Too late."

"But," he continued, glaring at Draco. "I'd like to side-Apparate. We're getting a touch drunk."

"I'm not drunk," Draco said, slightly aware that he might've slurred that a bit.

"Well I am," Harry said, gesturing for the cheque from their waiter. "And I want an excuse to touch you."

Draco blushed furiously and tried to hide it by making for the cheque, but Harry was faster. "It's on me, since I had to convince you to come out with me in the first place."

"Fine, fine," Draco frowned. "Let's get out of here before I take the bottle with me."

They stumbled out the door of the restaurant and Harry pulled on Draco's arm towards the end of the road so that they could Apparate.

"You want me to be charming and gentle with you?" Harry snorted. "Why should I if you still treat me like rubbish?"

"Because. I'm a Malfoy—I'll always treat you like rubbish. You, however, should know better. You're the hero, the Golden Boy, aren't you?"

Harry was silent as he held out his arm. Draco snorted and took it, and they landed outside the gates in Hogwarts.

"You know, I don't particularly like it when you're rude to me," Harry said, walking ahead. Draco followed, albeit with a bit more grace, thankfully. "It's like—well, why? You're friends with Neville but you won't be friends with me? What did I do that was so wrong?"

"You didn't do anything. I just..." Draco was at a lost. He had a reason. Didn't he? "It's just that everyone loves you all the time and I don't want to be one of your sycophantic fans."

"I don't want sycophantic fans! I never have!" Harry said, his voice growing louder as they walked towards the castle. "I just want friends. Friends who give a shit—I hate that everyone else has paired off with each other and I feel all alone, like during the war all over again!"

Draco was quiet. He felt the same way, but he'd never admit it.

"Why are you complaining though?" Draco said, rolling his eyes. "You could go out and get any man you want. You're Harry bloody Potter, aren't you?"

"So what? None of those men even know me. They all know the bloke they see in the papers."

"I know you," Draco said suddenly then realised what he was saying. "Wait. I mean, no, I don't know you."

"But you do," Harry said, turning around and walking backwards. "You've known me since I was 11 for the person that I really am—you never treated me like I was anything bigger or better."

Then Harry stopped moving, causing Draco to nearly bump into him. "I'm beginning to see that."

And then, Draco didn't know how it happened really, but they were kissing. No, not kissing, it was more like a clumsy attempt at kissing because they were both drunk and it was cold outside and they were in the middle of the path towards Hogwarts.

But still.

Draco felt his heartbeat thrumming loudly and his knees felt wobbly like he was a teenager all over again and the worst part of it all was that he loved it. He loved every second of it, because hell, this is what he had wanted since he was a teenager—back in Hogwarts, wanking under the covers to the thought of the Golden Boy sucking his prick.

Suddenly there was a sort of whoosh feeling and Draco stumbled backward, falling onto the ground—the carpeted ground?

"What the fuck?" Draco looked around and realized that he was in Harry's living quarters, in the castle. "How did you... you can't Apparate in the grounds!"

Harry looked around, seeming even more confused than Draco. But he still looked absolutely kissable. His lips were glossy and his nose was pink from the cold and his hair was all mussed—how had Draco resisted him in the first place?

"Well, I guess being ultra powerful has its benefits," Draco grumbled, standing up and leaning against Harry.

He pulled away and took off his cloak, because it was too thick and heavy and hot suddenly. He took off his scarf and jacket and Harry just stood there like an idiot.

"What are you—oh," Harry said suddenly, the light in his eyes shining brightly. He took off his own cloak and shoved his boots and glasses off as well.

Their lips met again and Draco felt Harry moving him towards the bed, when suddenly his knees knocked against something and he fell backwards.

They lay there, amongst Potter's massive pillows and kissed like it was the first time; like they were so crazy about each other that they couldn't stop their hands from feeling and their tongues from battling. Draco felt something curling around the pit of his stomach and it felt almost like comfort.

Suddenly, he was pushing away. He was standing up and the room was spinning and he felt like throwing up.

"Fuck. Can't do this," Draco mumbled, realising that he was, in fact, about to shag Harry. But he couldn't! He was Headmaster, and their kids were somewhere in the castle, and, well, he was drunk. And drunken one night stands with Professors were a no-go in the Headmaster handbook of life.

Harry was sitting up, his clothes and hair looking as though he had gone through a hurricane—did I do that?—and blinking furiously.

"Wait, where are you going?" Harry was asking, but Draco was already walking out.

"I have to use the restroom," Draco said thickly. "And then sleep this off. And then wake up and kill myself for being so stupid. Goodnight, Potter."

With that, he shut the door and realised too late that he had left his cloak and jacket in Potter's room. Still, he was stumbling down the hall and within minutes found himself climbing his stairs and bolting into his restroom to throw up most of his dinner.

The next morning, he didn't kill himself, but he definitely thought about it. Especially when Scorpius barged in around noon. Fuck, he had forgotten that it was Sunday morning.

"Father? Are you all right?" Scorpius sounded alarmed, and of course he would. He'd never seen Draco stay in bed this late—it was something that Draco hadn't done since his Hogwarts days.

Draco struggled to sit up and not look like he was dying from the hangover and confused feelings. "I'm feeling a bit under the weather, son. Could we perhaps reschedule and have dinner later tonight?"

"You're not getting rid of me that easy, Father." Scorpius came closer and sat on the edge of Draco's bed. "Are you... did you drink last night?"

"How can you tell?" Draco cracked a smile.

"Well, I've only seen you look like that once—when Grandfather died. And Mum said you were 'drinking the pain away'. Is that what you did last night? Oh no, Harry didn't stand you up, did he?"

The look of pure concern on his son's face did something to Draco. He realised how much his son really did care for him, and honestly just wanted to see him happy.

"No, no he didn't," Draco sighed. "I kind of wish he had. Anyway, are you and I speaking again? You've been upset with me all week."

"I know," Scorpius said softly, looking down at his shoes like he always did when he felt guilty about something. "I just... you never talk about this kind of stuff with me. I don't want you to feel like you have to act all put-together all the time. I want us to talk about personal stuff, Father."

"I do too," Draco said, resting his hand on Scorpius' shoulder. "But not right now. Right now, I must go get a remedy potion."

"I'll go get it!" Scorpius said eagerly, running over to Draco's cabinet. Draco watched fondly as his son brought it over. "Father, you really need to fix things with Professor Potter. I think you two would be excellent together. Really."

Draco rolled his eyes at his son's persistence and drank the potion. Relaxing slightly as the chilly potion did its work, he sat back against the bed rest and patted the space next to him. Scorpius slid over and sat with his legs crossed, staring at him.

"It's not that I don't want to be closer to him," Draco started, feeling odd talking openly about his feelings with his son. "I just—I don't think it would be good. For any of us. I'm Headmaster of a very prodigious school, son. I have obligations, and so does Harry, because he's a role-model for the wizarding world, even if he doesn't want to be."

Draco looked up and found that he could no longer hide the truth from Scorpius. "I do. However, like I said, there's not much I can do about that. I would never ask Harry to resign from being Professor just so that I can be in a relationship with him."

"But what if..." Scorpius paused, clearly struggling with his thoughts. "You could... Oh, Father! But is so not fair!"

Chuckling, Draco shook his head. "You're young, and it'll take time for you to understand, but life just isn't fair, Scorpius. The happily-ever-afters are rare—the rest of us simply... live, then die."

Scorpius scowled. "I think that's dumb. You always taught me to take control of my own destiny, and now you're letting this just pass you by!"

Draco laughed again. "I want you to have that idealism, yes, but once you grow old, you see that not everything is about your own happiness. I care about Harry, yes, but I care about you, Albus, James and Lily as well. We'll all be affected by this, and you're all on the cusp of adulthood. I have a lot more patience then I did when I was young. I've waited since I was 17, and I can wait a few years more, until, perhaps, I retire as Headmaster."

"Since you were 17?" Scorpius stared at him with his jaw slackened. "Father, you've been in love with him since you were a teen?"

"No," Draco flushed. "Not in love with him. That's when I realised that I admired him—for doing everything I could never do."

Scorpius rolled his eyes in a way that made it seem as though Draco was looking at a younger version of himself. Of course, Draco had never had a conversation with Lucius about anything this personal.

"You should get going, Scorpius," Draco said suddenly. "The Slytherins have Quidditch practice, yes?"

"Yes." Scorpius sighed. "They're all a bunch of buffoons. I can't wait until I'm captain next year."

Draco smirked—Scorpius was really the epitome of a Malfoy.

The rest of Sunday was devoted purely to paperwork for Draco, and by the time Monday morning rolled around, he was feeling slightly better. He had his professional face back on—he could do this. He had just finished scolding two girls for nearly killing each other over some dumb boy—he cheated on me with my SISTER!—and was just about to go out for lunch when a low knock thudded against his door.

"Enter," Draco called and looked up, his heart nearly seizing when he saw a head of messy hair. He relaxed when he saw that it was just James, not his father.

"James, come in," Draco said. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I know, er, I wanted to come by and ask you something."

Draco put down his quill and rested his chin on his knuckles. "Yes?"

"You know how we were talking about what I should do after I leave Hogwarts? You told me about all the options, and well, I finally figured out what I want to do, but it's like... impossible. So, I need a second choice."

"Hold on a moment," Draco frowned. "Why is your first option impossible?"

James seemed to blush a bit. "Because, it's just not going to happen. The person that has the job right now... well I could never do it."

"James, what are you talking about?" Draco asked directly.

He mumbled something and shrugged, looking away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Draco said, leaning in. Just then, another knock sounded at the door and Draco looked up. "Why do people not believe in making appointments these days?" Draco muttered, flicking his wand to open the door. He then nearly dropped his wand in anxiety.

"Potter." Draco cleared his throat.

"James?" Harry asked, coming inside. "What's wrong? Are you in trouble again?" He looked back up to Draco and raised his eyebrows.

"Dad, no, I'm not in trouble." James sighed. "I just came here to talk to Headmaster Malfoy about what I want to do after I leave Hogwarts."

"Oh." Harry smiled slightly. "Excellent. Can I listen as well? I'd love to hear about what you have planned, since you never want to talk to me about it, like your sister and brother do."

And just then, James stood up, nearly toppling his chair back. Draco sat up in surprise.

"What the hell, Dad?" James suddenly yelled. "Why does everything always have to be about you or Albus or Lily? Why can't anything, Merlin, just anything be about me for once?"

Harry was still standing near the door, and he looked frozen in shock. "James, I—"

"No, just stop! Everytime I ever wanted to talk to you about anything, it always included Al or Lil. You wanna know why I was hesitant about you coming here to teach? Because I want to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dad. You just had to come here and do it, and now I can't ever do it because everyone will just say I'm following in the Great Harry Potter's footsteps! I can't believe you didn't even care if I wanted you to work in my school—but if Albus and Lily were okay with it, then why not, right?"

He sank into his chair and held his head in his hands, looking so defeated. Draco looked up at Harry, and he had never seen the Saviour look like that—guilty, stricken... broken almost.

"James," Harry whispered. He came near and kneeled next to his son, putting an arm around him. "I... I never knew—"

"Just forget it," James croaked from behind his hands. "It doesn't even matter."

"It does matter, James," Draco said suddenly. He didn't want to intrude on the father-son moment, but he felt it necessary since James did come to talk to him quite often. "Your father cares about you, he wants to be able to help you, but you have to talk to him as well."

They both looked up at him and Draco nodded, standing up. "You both stay here and talk—don't walk away or leave angry—try to understand each other. I have a meeting over at the Ministry, so take your time."

Draco walked over to his coat rack, grabbing his overcoat and scarf.

"Draco," Harry tried to say something but Draco shook his head.

"Later," he vowed, gesturing towards James. "This is more important."

Harry nodded and Draco threw some Floo powder into his fireplace, leaving with the green flames.

Draco came out of the Floo, dusting himself off and stepping into the foyer. That meeting had taken several hours longer than he had suspected, but he was thankful—it had given him the chance to talk to the Minister about some very important issues.

He made quick work of his cloak bindings and tossed it over the back of his armchair. Thankfully, one of the house-elves had started a fire and the room was nice and toasty compared to the icy wind that was rampaging outside.

Leaning over the mantel, Draco drank in the heat from the fire and suddenly stiffened.

He felt another presence in the room—a powerful, lusty desire overcame him. Harry.

Draco didn't turn, simply closed his eyes and willed some courage back into his bones. "How is James?" Draco asked after a moment.

He heard some shuffling as Potter came closer, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace. Draco didn't look at him.

"Good. He and I talked for a long while after you left. I can't thank you enough, Draco. You've been more of a father to him than I have for the last two years. Ever since Ginny and I split up... well, he was right. I hadn't talked to him individually unless he had got into trouble."

"Why is it always the wrong time for us?" Harry asked, and Draco felt him walking closer and closer, until he was holding Draco's wrists loosely.

"I can't, Harry. I just can't." Draco broke off, feeling emotion rise up in his chest.

"Is this some sense of obligation that you feel because you're Headmaster and I'm a Professor? Or is it about what the kid's will think? What is it?" Harry insisted.

"All of those things and more," Draco said. "I am Headmaster, and you love being a Professor. And what will the kids, our families, say? I know Scorpius wants this, but I don't know about your children."

"Draco," Harry said, and Draco was shocked when the man started to laugh. "My children are over the moon about it. Lily and Albus adore you, and I had a long talk with James about it today. He said he likes the idea as well. And, about our careers... I need to speak with you about that, actually."

"Oh no," Draco said, shaking his head. "Don't even think about quitting because of this—"

"It's not because of this," Harry interrupted him. "Well, it kind of is, but not completely. I realised today that James being an assistant professor would be much more of a help for you, and you could hire someone else to teach while he's learning. I went to Hogsmeade today... they're building a small school for younger students, for beginning magic."

"I know," Draco said in confusion. "I'm on the planning committee for that."

"Exactly. I think, to be honest, I want to teach there. I always enjoyed teaching my kids magic when they were youngsters, and this would bring me close to Hogwarts as well..."

"Unless you don't really want this. In which case, I'll leave you alone."

Draco looked up in surprise. "No! I mean, yes, I do want this! Oh, Harry." Draco nearly broke at the apprehension in Harry's eyes. "I've never wanted anything as much as this—I just—"

Draco, not knowing what else to say, pulled Harry in suddenly, pressing his lips against his in a kiss that was so much hotter than any fire. He tried to put every ounce of the emotion he was feeling back into the kiss, so that Harry would know how Draco felt about him. How much he wanted to be his equal, for once, and to be next to him all the time.

They broke off after long moments of nipping and kissing and Harry panted, "I guess that means I should fill out my resignation papers, Headmaster Malfoy."

"Later," Draco growled, pulling Harry's shirt up and over his head. "First, I need to taste you."

With that, he dropped down to his knees and kissed Harry's sculpted abs—oh the man must still get great exercise—as he also worked open his trousers, pulling them down.

"Oh, fuck!" Draco panted as Harry thrust into him harder each time. Hours later and they still had not had enough of each other—three times, Draco had already succumbed to pleasure and each was better than the last. "Fourth time for the win, eh, Potter?" He chuckled hoarsely.

Draco came from the thought alone and Harry soon tumbled afterwards. They lay in sweat and basked in the afterglow, tangled in Draco's bedsheets.

"How did I last so long in this world without touching you?" Harry mumbled, kissing along Draco's chest.

"You were always into touching the wrong people." Draco laughed, even when Harry smacked him on the hip for his comment. "We really must thank the kids. They did help us realise how much we were..." Draco trailed off, not knowing how to describe what he was feeling.

Harry leaned in and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. "Meant for each other?"

"Yes." Draco smiled, but then frowned when he thought of something else. "Although, I seriously can't believe I lost two Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers in less than two months of school."